By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — Purim. It’s our happiness, fun-filled, dramatic, costume-drinking-upside down-holiday. Many have the tradition to fast on the day before Purim (Fast of Esther). Some have the custom to give three coins to charity to recall the half-shekel donated annually to the Temple during Adar (Machatzit HaShekel), and this is where the words Terumah appears three times in Exodus (30:11-16) which is why we give three coins. We give the money to charity of course (Matanot La’evyonim). Many have the practice of hearing the Megillah read on Purim night and again the next day. There is of course the custom to send food to friends (Mishloach Manot), and then there is the rejoincing and the Purim meal.
But perhaps the most common practice, at least for children, is to dress up in costumes. We let our defenses down, we do not look like ourselves, we allow ourselves to become in touch with the deeper sides of ourselves, and fully embrace the good that surrounds us. Indeed, “when the month of Adar enters, we increase our happiness we learn in the Talmud (Taanit, 29a). In costume, at Purim, we can forget about what we are on the outsides are, and focus on the happiness that is really inside. We can’t help but be happy on Purim. In fact, regardless of what goes on in our lives, we are commanded on Purim to go to the extreme of happiness.
Here is a story from Rabbi Pesach Krohn that brings understanding to this. It begins at the bar mitzvah party of a young man we will call Sruli. The bar mitzvah took place in Chicago where so many of the boy’s family and friends came to celebrate this momentous occasion. The party was coming to an end, with just close friends and family lingering. As so often happens at moments like this, the boy’s parents sat tired yet exhilarated and joy-filled that their little Sruli made it to this wondrous stage in his life.
The parents recalled how much they had to be grateful for, given their son’s birth difficulties. Sruli was born premature, and weighed just a fraction over two pounds. The doctors did not hold out a great deal of hope that the tiny newborn would make it and if he did, they were certain he would have serious developmental problems. Sruli lived for weeks and weeks in the neonatal ICU and finally, at four months, was able to leave the hospital. He had his bris at five months.
Sruli grew slowly and was always short and weakened for his age. He was teased mercilessly for his short, frail stature and endured terrible name-calling throughout much of his childhood. He made up for his short height with a strong personality and endearing manner. He never showed any signs of internalizing a “negative self-image,” however it took a great deal of inner strength and resources to do so.
The parents, however, always prayed that someday there would be a growth hormone that their son could take to help him grow to normal size.
Then one day it happened. The hormone they prayed and prayed for was announced. Of course, a hormone like this brought with it not only praise for its ability to help children like Sruli grow to normal size, but also serious concerns about possible long term side effects in future years. The family, like all families in this situation, wanted to believe the positive yet were fearful of the unknown.
The family finally traveled to New York to consult one of the country’s leading experts in endocrinology, a woman we will call Dr. Maria Christianson. The family met with the doctor and discussed Sruli’s case with her. She carefully examined the young boy, ran many tests, had others examine the boy and ran still other tests.
The day came for the family to learn of the results and Dr. Christianson’s recommendations. Would she prescribe the growth hormone or not? Would they be satisfied with Dr. Christianson’s evaluation and opinion or would they seek yet another leading expert’s point of view?
During the consultation, the pros and cons of the growth hormone were, naturally, discussed.
“Dr. Christianson,” the father who was a well-known rabbi in the Chicago area said, “you see we are a highly religious family who are most comfortable relying on wisdom and insights which we find in our religious heritage. Here, there is no right or wrong. There is no clear answer. Tell me, as a mother of a child, not as a doctor, what would you do if this were your child?”
Dr. Christianson’s answer left the mother and family stunned and filled with emotion.
She covered her eyes and thought for several minutes. When she opened them, Dr. Christianson’s eyes were filled with tears. “Rabbi,” she said ever so softly, “there is a great difference between your people and my people. I live in a ‘Scarsdale Society’ with a ‘Scarsdale mentality.’ [Scarsdale, in case you don’t know, is a wealthy suburb of Westchester County north of New York City.] I would have no choice,” Dr. Christianson continued, “but to have my son try this hormone, because so much of our way of life is based on superficial appearance. How one looks, how one dresses, what first impression one makes are all of paramount importance. But you, Rabbi, you and your people are different. You are internal people, among whom wisdom, character and intelligence count for everything.”
“Your son is a well adjusted boy. He is astute and has a healthy attitude towards his situation. If I were you, because of what you are, I would not take the chance.”
Somewhat embarrassed about having allowed her inner feelings to spill out, the doctor dabbed her eyes, wish the rabbi and his family well and excused herself from the examination room. The rabbi walked out of the doctor’s deeply moved. He would never forget this moment.
In our Psalms we are taught, “Let a stranger praise you, not your own mouth.” In other words, let self-praise come from another, not yourself. The rabbi not only learned about good medicine in that consultation, but also learned how someone from another faith observed the greatness of his – and ours.
Happiness is an inside job indeed. Our happiness is not based on how tall we are, how we look, what we wear, what we drive or where we live. This doctor understood that. When we are at peace with ourselves, not our outer costumes, when we can say we’re doing the best we can do, when we strive to be as good as we can be even when nobody is looking, then we find the inner satisfaction and fulfillment that happiness is all about — it’s after all a state of mine. We are told, “laYehudim haytah orah v’simcha”and say together at the end of the Megilla. We have light and gladness. Light is Torah. That is our happiness — based on an inner sense of who we are, not our outer Purim costume — or a growth hormone.
May we merit to reconnect to Torah and its values, as we did at the time of the Purim story, and may we merit true happiness and light all year.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun. He may be contacted via michael.mantell@sdjewishworld.com